


You're My Heavy Ocean

by cumberhardhiddlesbitch



Series: The Rhombus 'Verse [30]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Cock Rings, Come Marking, F/M, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumberhardhiddlesbitch/pseuds/cumberhardhiddlesbitch
Summary: Shannon and Tom chat about her upcoming plans, do some kink negotiation, and share an intense scene.
Relationships: Benedict Cumberbatch/Tom Hardy, Benedict Cumberbatch/Tom Hardy/Original Female Character(s), Tom Hardy/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Rhombus 'Verse [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/715134
Kudos: 4





	You're My Heavy Ocean

Shannon started the dishwasher, the quiet yet permeating hum of it making the kitchen feel cozy. Tom shifted in the living room, the leather of the sofa creaking as he stretched his legs out over the ottoman. She glanced at him, still studiously reading a script, and wondered how much longer he would tolerate holding so still.

Her laptop was set up on the table, and she brought over a cup of tea as she sat down and began working.

Ten minutes later Tom had given up on holding still, slipping through the kitchen in search of a diversion. He opened and closed several cupboards before selecting a glass, then let the water run in the sink for an unreasonable amount of time before filling it. Shannon tapped the end of her braid against her mouth as she thought, trying not to be annoyed.

"What's got you scowling?" Tom asked.

"I'm not scowling." She thought of minimizing the window she was looking at, but Tom would probably have recognized the glaring yellow of the RyanAir website. Besides, the quick window minimization just screamed of guilt, and she had nothing to feel guilty about, whether or not she particularly wanted to talk to Tom about her plans as of yet.

"I can see your reflection in the screen," he pointed out.

"Alright, I'm scowling at RyanAir."

He set his cup down next to her computer and stood behind her, hands on her shoulders experimentally. When she didn't shrug him off he started kneading.

"Perfectly reasonable, but why?"

"I want to go to Ireland next week but I can't find any flights that suit."

"Doesn't Aer Lingus go there?"

"They're like twice as much." She closed the laptop, not willing to stare at the screen any longer, Tom's fingers working into her muscles too good to allow her to focus anymore.

"But they're not RyanAir, so your chance of being screwed over is far less."

"True." She didn't mention that she was willing to take the chance of dealing with RyanAir's last minute changes just to keep it within some semblance of her budget, fearing that Tom would brush her off. She had socked most of the money from her recent sales away, one commission was just about finished, but other than that her income was sporadic enough that she still wouldn't have turned down a catering job.

"What brought this on?" He slid his hands down the sides of her arms, gently tugging on her til she stood up, following him to the living room.

"I need an excuse to go visit my step sister?"

"Huh." He sat on the sofa, one leg folded under himself, patted the seat so she'd sit down with her back to him. The shades were drawn, anyway, so he wouldn't be able to see her expressions. "I thought you'd be going to see Tessa."

"She's easy to get to. She lives in Dublin." Shannon leaned her head forward, stretching her neck. "I might see her on this trip, come to think of it, but Mayo is about four hours from Dublin by car."

"Not terribly convenient then."

"No." She let him work his way down her back, leaning into him when he applied his elbows. "You and Ben are both gone next week."

"That we are."

"It seemed like an ideal time to go."

Tom wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back. "I'd have thought you'd relish the time alone."

"In a way, I will do just that." She held onto the back of his hand, closing her eyes as she leaned on his chest. "You know why I want to go see Aiobheann."

"I can imagine, but I don't know." He nuzzled at the side of her neck, the soft touch merely exploring as he kissed her softly, not trying to get her worked up.

"You're going to make me say it out loud, aren't you?" she asked, closing her eyes as she leaned against him.

"I find it's by far the best way to communicate, though if you'd prefer to master semaphore I'm sure I'd be up to the challenge."

She snorted softly and swatted at his hand. "I've never been accused of being bad at communicating. Quite the opposite, most people want me to talk less."

"I can't believe that."

"My sister, mostly."

Tom sighed, deeply. "Ok, I can believe that."

"But sometimes I have these thoughts, and I think, well, should I say everything I'm thinking, in every moment, what if it comes out wrong, what if in a moment I'm not even thinking that same thing anymore?"

"I think you know your mind a little better than that." He kissed the top of her head. "You're not Doug the Dog from Up."

She smiled, relaxing against him more. "In case I was about to forget that you're a dad."

"So say what it is that you're thinking, just so I don't have to guess."

She closed her eyes, easier that way even if she wasn't looking at him to begin with. "If you had to guess, though? I mean, you can't be that far off."

He shook her gently from side to side. "Wiser people than me have pointed out that this sort of relationship doesn't work without communication that is above and beyond the norm. I don't think me guessing your thoughts is going to fall into that category."

"Though, if you were right, that would definitely be above and beyond." He was silent, waiting, and she let him wait for a few more seconds, gathering her thoughts. "Ok. When I met you, you told me pretty quickly that you were with Ben, and that was good, because I didn't have to decide after getting to know you whether or not I could even try to be part of a polyamorous relationship."

"You seemed to make up your mind pretty quickly," Tom said. "I was surprised."

"It just seemed like the sort of thing that I would know, right away. I had considered it before, abstractly, and this was easy, in a way. You weren't asking me to care for him, only to consider him."

"Consider him for what?" Tom was leaning back into the sofa as well, and she slid with him while he held her tight.

"Not for something, just, to consider him as a human being who might have needs that could intersect with mine, to consider that sometimes you would need to be with him instead of me, though given both of our schedules it didn't really seem to matter. And I really liked you." She stuck her tongue out for a moment, grateful that Tom couldn't see her. "That, right there, is why this whole explicit and constant communication thing is difficult. Saying things like, I liked you. It's so obvious, but it had a role in why I said yes. If I had just thought you were a potentially fun lay I wouldn't have bothered saying yes to sharing your time with Ben."

"Ok." He didn't shake, exactly, but she had a feeling that he was trying to hold in a laugh. "I liked you too."

"Well, I should hope so."

"You were telling me, why this sudden need for a trip to Ireland."

"It's not because you're not enough for me, when it comes to needing someone else to talk to, and it's not because I regret anything."

"I hadn't guessed either of those things."

"I just want reassurance from someone else that this can be done. I want to hear from someone, not either of you, that it's ok that I don't feel exactly the same way about the both of you."

"You know it is, though."

"I do know, but that doesn't mean that I don't want to hear it from someone who has been in a similar situation for a few years. I want to know, concretely, how it can be done."

"Aren't you living it, right now?"

She leaned away from him and twisted herself around so she was looking at him. "In a way we're all so deep in the closet we could be in Narnia."

"Not to the people we care about."

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Is there a particular reason you don't want me to go?"

Tom shook his head quickly. "I do want you to go."

"But you insisted on knowing why."

"I didn't mean to insist. You said that I knew why, and I didn't, so I wanted to know what you thought it was that I already knew." He looked visibly confused after that, but she followed.

"And if I'd said, I won't tell you, it's private? Can I have private thoughts that I don't share, just because?"

"Of course. Though if you say that you can read my mind, I'm going to want to know why, and what it is that you think I'm thinking."

"Fair." She leaned back into him, her head resting awkwardly on his shoulder, a point of bone pressing into her temple. "I feel like I'm standing on the edge of something. This isn't going to stay a secret forever, and I’m not going to give up on this extraordinary thing just because I'm scared, but I want to know what's going to happen, or at least what has happened for other people."

"You know that their experiences aren't going to be entirely applicable."

"I know, too many differences. They're two women and a man, two of them are married, with a child, no less. None of them are celebrities at all. That's one thing they won't be able to give me any insight as to. But on the balance of things, I think that Aiobheann might still have some good advice, or at least, I'm hoping, just seeing all of them together might put my mind at ease."

"I think that's fair," Tom said. 

"And even if you didn't, I would still be going." She picked her head up, her temple sore from the pressure.

He leaned forward and kissed the side of her head softly, as if he could see where it hurt. "And that's also fair. I didn't mean to pry."

She shrugged, feeling exhausted, suddenly. "One of the things that always strikes me about Ireland when I’m there is how absolutely steeped in religion it is. The county motto of Mayo, where Aiobheann lives with her family, is Dia is Muirre Linn. God and Mary be with us. It's printed on everything, even the recycling bins. I just figure, if they can be happy and not entirely in hiding there, then wouldn't it follow that we'd be alright as well?"

"Being godless and all," he said, leaning his head against the back of the sofa. When he smiled the one-up one-down piano keys of his lower teeth were evident, and she had to keep herself from springing forward and licking them.

"Comparatively speaking, most places are."

"Saudi Arabia?"

"I said most." She leaned forward and nipped at his lower lip, squeaking in laughter when he nipped back.

She let him chase her into the corner of the sofa, neck bent at a strange angle as he kissed her. She could feel her chin folding up against her chest, surprised to realize she didn't even care when he leaned back, hands on her shoulders to look at her.

"We should go book your flight."

The reality of her task hit her again. "I'll do it tomorrow."

"Just do it now." He cupped his hand behind her neck and gently lifted her up. "I'll book it for you." Before she could give him a reproachful look he had tucked his head into the side of her neck. "Just let me do this."

She shivered as he kissed his way up the side of her neck to her ear. "Tom," she started, but found that she couldn't think of how she was going to dissuade him.

"Shannon," he countered, his hand pushing gently down on her forehead as he pushed her hair back.

She reached up to push him away, her push becoming earnest instead of playful as her chin bent towards her chest more. Tom felt it, and backed off, scooping his hand under her neck.

"I seem to back you into the corner too much," he said as he sat her up, his hand still holding the back of her head as she sat up.

"It's not that." She slid away from him, sitting on the edge of the sofa cushion. "I just couldn't tell, for a second," she trailed off, trying to suss out her own thoughts.

"Couldn't tell what?"

"If you were trying to convince me, or if you were really trying to tell me what to do."

He smiled slowly as he sat back. "Was I trying to dominate you into letting me buy you a plane ticket? No. I'm not really into that."

She curled up into the corner of the sofa, close enough to him to feel his warmth but not touching. "Are there people who are into that?" She had picked up the end of her braid and was tapping it against her mouth without thinking about it, then stopped, twirling the ends of her hair around her fingers.

"There are, and as long as it’s consensual all around it seems to work for everyone involved, but it’s not for me" He shrugged. "I just wanted to make this a little easier for you, because frankly, I don't like the idea of you wasting half your time traipsing across Ireland when you could just fly into Mayo."

"Ok." She let herself relax into the back of the sofa, staring at the leather instead of him. He wasn't expectant, that she could tell. Being able to think quietly, even in the middle of a conversation, was something she had found with him that she had never had with anyone else. She thought about the time it took to get from Dublin or Cork to the western part of the country, and the limited amount of time she had to spend with her stepsister in any case, and made a decision. "I can do it. I'll fly into Mayo, and really, I'm more than able to do that. I just kept thinking there had to be a better way, and I was just being stubborn about it."

"You?" Tom smiled quickly enough that there was no doubt about the gentle nature of his tease.

"Shut it." She stood up before she could get too comfortable. "I'm going to go do it now."

"Yeah? And then what?" Tom had his arm spread out across the back of the sofa, the white underside of it tempting her to run her fingernails over his skin. She curled up her hands in her sleeves, stopping herself.

"What did you have in mind?" 

He turned himself so he was looking at her over the edge of the sofa back, leering at her. His hair was clipped short, and even though she was used to most of the different ways he had of presenting himself, there was always something a little harder about him when his head looked so bare.

"What did _you_ have in mind?" he countered.

"Maybe after I take care of this, you could back me into a corner." She tightened her calves as she stood, needing something to do to keep herself from touching her face or making herself look smaller, anything to just hold on to his gaze without being coy, because it wasn't meant to be.

"Really?" The way he pushed himself up off the couch, the angle of his shoulder as he leaned towards her, reminded her of a big cat.

"Really."

"Alright then." He lowered himself back down, sitting comfortably as he turned the television on. "I'll be over here when you're done."

She waited until he was entirely facing away from her to move, and even then remembered that perhaps he was watching her in the reflection from the television. 

Once at the computer, her mind made up, it took about half an hour to finalize her plans, messaging Aoibheann to make sure before she booked the flight. After she'd saved the itinerary and the confirmation numbers and messaged one last goodnight to everyone in Mayo she shut the computer down, risking a glance over at Tom as she clicked it shut.

He was still turned to the television, an episode of QI apparently holding his attention. She moved into the kitchen, getting a glass of water, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder when the water was running. The thrum of apprehension, almost amounting to fear, but not quite, was what she had tacitly asked for, and yet it was hard to master the more parochial side of her mind that wanted to just call the entire thing off, and curl up next to him on the sofa. She drank her water standing at the worktop, her back resolutely towards him, and thought about that decision, feeling the disappointing letdown that would come if she allowed herself to go back on what she'd asked for.

She set her cup in the sink and considered her next move. There were still ten minutes left of the show and Tom still seemed rapt. She walked across the room, thinking of going into the bedroom to put on her pajamas, then changed her mind halfway there and sat on the couch, curling up in the corner again, her feet tucked back towards Tom but not touching him. He caressed her ankle with his thumb, then let his hand rest on her, fingers lightly wrapped around the back of her leg.

“We should talk,” he said, turning towards her. He paused Stephen Fry and set the remote down behind himself.

“What about?”

“When you said you wanted me to back you into a corner, what did you mean?”

Shannon licked her lips while she thought. It had seemed so simple when she’d said it, but being asked to put it into more explicit terms was something else.

“I want you to dominate me,” she said. “The last few times we discussed every aspect beforehand and that’s great but I’d like to be surprised this time.”

“Hmm.” He kept stroking her ankle. “Surprised in what way?”

“I don’t need to know everything that we’re going to do. I want how you’re going to restrict my movement or move my body to be a surprise.” 

“Ok.” He kept rubbing her ankle. “Anything else?”

She took a deep breath. “I’d like to be able to push back against you some, just to feel that you’re stronger than me.” She finished the last in a rush. 

He smiled as she ducked her head towards the back of the couch. “That’s fine. We can do that.”

“I don’t want you to think that I’m actually trying to stop you, or push you away,” she said. 

“Well, we’ve got a pretty good system for that,” he said. When she didn’t respond he gently jostled her ankle. 

“I know, I can safeword you if I need to.” She looked up at him. “I don’t doubt that.”

“It’s more about me being able to ask you for a color,” he said. 

She grimaced, trying and failing to keep her mouth from twisting down.

“What is it that you don’t like about that?” he asked.

“It’s not that I don’t _like_ it,” she said. “It just seems like an affectation, to use coded words like that. I know why it’s necessary and I’ll do it, I just can’t get over how it feels like I’m being pretentious.”

He smiled and leaned forward as he rubbed along her leg, fingers massaging into her muscles. “I hate to break it to you but there’s a fair amount of pretense involved in a scene, given that we have agreed to be in a scene together at all.”

She sighed. “True.”

“And if you want me to be any kind of rough with you it’s only fair that I get to be able to check in quickly.”

“When you put it that way.” She shifted closer to him.

“You’re willing to do it if it’s for me, but not if it’s for you?” he asked, turning so he could put his arm around her shoulders.

“It’s easier to think about that way, but it’s not as though I’m being self sacrificing in all of this. Like you said it’s only fair.” She leaned back against his shoulder, letting the heat seep through their layers of clothing. “And it’s not that I want you to be rough with me exactly. I don’t want more discomfort than I’ve had before. Just,” she paused. “Less predictable, I suppose.”

“And thus, my insistence on a safe word that works for you telling me you’re completely comfortable.”

“Understood. I agree.” She let her head rest on his shoulder when he squeezed her tight.

“When do you want to do this?” He pulled back from her so he could look at her properly.

“Surprise me.”

He chuckled as he took his arm away from her shoulders, settling himself back into his corner of the sofa. “Very well then.” He picked up the remote and resumed the program, setting his feet on the ottoman. 

She watched his profile, trying to be subtle about it, sure that he could see her even though he wasn't watching her. Between waiting to see if he was going to suddenly spring on her and wondering if perhaps he'd given up on the idea the ten minutes passed without her really even hearing whatever it was that Stephen Fry was expounding on. When the credits were rolling she stretched and Tom let his hand fall away from her leg, though when she went to push herself off of the sofa he had his hand clamped around her wrist.

"Where are you going?" He turned towards her almost as an afterthought, after he'd already spoken, the tightness of his hand around the small bones in her wrist totally out of proportion to his quiet voice.

"Getting ready for bed."

He looked at her steadily, pressing his lips together as if he were trying to work out whether or not to believe her. "Alright." He leaned on her wrist a little more as he bent forward to kiss the side of her neck, mouth moving against her skin as he spoke. "I'm actually really tired myself." When he sat back it was a full second before he let go of her.

"See you in a bit, then." She tried to keep her shoulders neutral, not tensed, as she walked away from him, feeling his gaze in the middle of her back-- yet when she risked a glance back at him he had turned back to the television.

In the washroom she changed into her pajamas, soft gray track pants and a gray vest, then brushed her teeth, straining to hear any sounds of Tom moving around above the sound of the water in the sink and the brush against her teeth. As she washed her face she sighed, realizing that probably he had been honestly tired, and her apprehension was for naught.

As she stepped out of the washroom she turned and switched the light off, so by the time she turned back around to face the bedroom she'd already nearly walked into Tom. She jumped, surprised, and stuck when he didn't move right away, leaning on the wall next to the door frame as if he'd been there long enough to grow tired.

"I didn't realize you were waiting out here," she said, trying to decide whether or not she could step around him.

"Yeah." His voice had almost no intonation at all. He reached out and pulled on the hem of her shirt, dragging the fabric down over her nipples, two sharp tugs before he let it go. "This is cute."

"Thanks." She rolled her shoulders back, adjusting the fabric back to the looser drape.

"Ok." He kissed her cheek as he pressed past her, into the washroom, and she was finally able to step into the bedroom. 

She hadn’t even taken a whole stride when he was suddenly close behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist. She leaned back against him, letting her back curve into his chest, surprised when he kept squeezing tighter.

“I know what you said earlier, but I wanted to be sure,” he said quietly, his voice soft at her ear, stubble rasping against the edge of her jaw. 

“About what?” she asked as he paused. 

“Were you asking me for a scene?” He kissed the side of her neck as he waited for her to answer.

She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his arms around her, the moist heat of his mouth against her neck. “Yes, I was.” She shivered as he traced the side of her neck with his tongue.

“And what’s your color right now?”

She closed her eyes, trying to summon up the courage to say. Despite Tom’s earlier reassurance, it still felt stilted to say. 

“My color is green.” 

He kept his arms around her but deftly turned her so they were face to face. 

“Thank you.” His arms were looped around her waist, his hands rubbing gently at her lower back. “Now, what do you want?”

She rested her hands on his shoulders, grinning as she repeated her words from earlier. “Surprise me.”

Tom rolled his eyes but there was the barest hint of a smile on his face for a second before he picked her up, turning them so her back was pressed against the washroom door, then held her there, her feet barely touching the ground.

"What the fuck, Tom." She was pushing a little bit, trying to get him to step back far enough for her to at least focus on his whole face.

"I thought you'd asked me for this." He pressed against her harder, covering her with his chest as he worked one arm out from behind her, chin scratching against her neck as he leaned his head on her shoulder.

"Yeah, I said back me into a corner, not slam me into a door."

He froze, and she became very aware of the heat of his breath against her skin. "Am I hurting you?"

She swallowed, pushing the back of her head into the door as she took stock of herself. Her left foot had dragged against the carpet oddly when he'd grabbed her, but it wasn't even smarting, and while he was holding her tight, crowding her, there was no part of her that was actually hurting, only the mild discomfort of being held in a position she hadn't chosen. Her calves were starting to feel the tension of holding herself on tip-toe, but that was a choice-- if she were able to let go of holding herself up, she was sure Tom would do it for her.

She set her hand on his shoulder as he pulled back, just enough for her to look at him. His eyebrows were slightly raised, waiting. "No."

"Then kindly stop with the theatrics." He kept his grip firm as he turned her around, leaning against the door himself so she was held against him, his arms crossed over her chest and waist, holding her back to him.

He bent forward and tightened his arm around her hips, lifting her up and cocking his hip so her feet truly weren't touching the ground any longer, her heels against his shins. She leaned forward, trying to reach the ground, but it only pressed her ass tighter into the cut of his hip, his arm a steady fulcrum that she could work against but not move.

"You're just going to tire yourself out." He sounded gently amused, his voice fairly far from her ear, head leaning against the door. "I can hold you like this all night."

She held still while she considered that. With his back against the door he probably could hold on for a good long while, but she didn't have to make it easy on him. She let her feet slip off his legs, breath catching when she realized that it only made her feel more at sea, her knees falling open as her feet went back. He was leaning at enough of an angle that she couldn't reach the door, and as his arm tightened against her hip she couldn't close her legs without a struggle.

She had her arms free, but knew well enough that pushing against his arms wasn't going to help. Still, she couldn't help but rest her hands against his lower arm, pushing down as she tried to lift her chest, stopped by his other arm as she took a deep breath.

"What are you trying to do?" There wasn't even the barest hint of strain in his voice. He loosened his arm against her chest just a bit when she tilted her head back, breathing through her mouth.

"This can not be fun for you."

"Oh, I don't know. I'm having a pretty good time." He slid his hand gently up the front of her neck, not pressing until he held her jaw in his hand, fingers gripping tight against the bone, holding her mouth open. It was only vaguely uncomfortable, until she tried to swallow, tongue clicking against the back of her throat, strange wet sounds as she almost choked on her saliva. He let go before it could come to that, and she found her mouth suddenly dry.

She coughed, after she swallowed, thought about coughing harder, to make him check to see that she was ok, but he'd already shown very little patience for her theatrics, as he called them. Even as she was still held up off the floor she had to admit to herself that her tacit accusation of him hurting her hadn't been right.

"I wasn't lying when I said I was tired," Tom said as he stood up, away from the wall. That little adjustment made her feel like she was perilously high, off balance, and yet her first instinct was to struggle away from him, leaning forward, her back bending as she tried to get away from his chest. "So I think we'd better just be done quickly, don't you agree?" The pleasant, even tone to his voice didn't betray the fact that he was carrying a thrashing grown woman across the room. She went limp halfway to the bed, thinking to throw him off balance, but he simply carried on, as if she was nothing more than a sheet of drywall or a small wardrobe that needed moving. Just as he approached the edge of the bed she bent up one leg and tried to knock her heel against the front and side of his knee. She checked herself, not wanting to hurt him in the least, only remind him that if she really wanted she could figure out a way to get out.

He twisted to the side, neatly outwitting her, her heel sliding off his jeans harmlessly, not even connecting. He laughed as he lowered her to the bed, turning her so she was face up as he crawled over her.

"I don't think so." He held himself up on his forearms, keeping his arms pressed close against hers. Usually when she found herself held by him her arms were over her head, his hands grasping her wrists. This was less picturesque, but more effective-- unlike the other times, she couldn't arch her back, couldn't move at all, the fraction of an inch between them feeling like a tenuous concession that only just allowed her to breathe.

He shook his head as he looked down at her, moved so he was brushing his nose against hers, the sweetness of that gesture totally out of sync with his words. "You're not going to get out of this that easily."

She could feel herself glaring at him, unable to stop even as he grinned at her. When she took a deep breath her chest pressed against his, and he lifted himself off her, slowly, his arms still bracketing hers.

"Now, listen." He licked his lips, shook his head as she nodded, automatically. "I need you to really listen right now."

"I am."

"You asked me for something tonight."

"I asked you to back me into a corner." She tried to reach up to touch him, but her hands were still stuck at her sides.

"We're a bit beyond that now."

"We are." Every few seconds she felt an urge to move her arms, and then the confinement of his arms around her would bring her back to the reality of the fact that she was caught. It was a familiar back and forth that she usually felt when Tom was dominating her, and as the urge to move faded she was usually on her way to something very languid and deep, almost sleepy. Now she felt far more alert and wired, but that other thing was there too, waiting for her, heavy and warm if she could ever get to it.

"Do you want to keep going?"

It was on the tip of her tongue to simply say yes, but everything about him was inspiring caution. "Meaning?"

"That I keep doing what I want, for as long as I want, with no input from you at all, unless you want to safeword out of this."

She couldn't hide the rate of her breathing, could only keep her mouth closed by clenching her teeth together. He couldn't possibly know that his words had sent a bolt of heat right through her, lodging in her core, aching as it spread through her, a craving for him to tighten his arms around her and get on with it. She was more alert than ever, watching his face for any sign of what might come next.

As she schooled her breathing into something steadier she realized it felt like standing on the edge of a precipice, getting ready to jump into a body of water she wasn't entirely familiar with, only in this there was an option to parachute out. The pounding of her heart in her ears wasn't only apprehension it was fear, too, but it was fear with a safety. 

"Yeah," she said, then caught herself, cleared her throat. "Yes, I want that."

His smile was tender, for a fraction of a second, so brief she thought she might have imagined it. He leaned so close that his face blurred, as he touched his forehead to her temple, arms tightening around her again as he lowered himself to cover her completely. He had moved just as she'd breathed out, and she tried to nudge against him with her shoulder, just to be able to start on one deep breath.

"Just, give me a second," she said, wiggling under him, angling her neck to try to find some air.

"No."

He held on tighter, clamped his knees around her hips as he rolled her over, the relief at being able to take a deep breath overpowering the disorientation she felt at not quite knowing which end was up. She was on top of him, in the loosest hold yet, for only a second, then on her side, both of his arms and one leg wrapped around her. The skin on her wrist burned as she turned her arm, angling her hand up to grasp at his forearm where he crossed it over her stomach. She had just found a good grip, good for nothing but anchoring herself, really, when he let go with that arm, only to hold his hand over her forehead, forcing her to look back at him. The angle was so steep that she could barely see him anyway, so she closed her eyes.

"It occurs to me that I take your little requests into account far too often," Tom said, holding her steady even as he brushed the hair out of her face with his thumb. "I've never done that for anyone else. Maybe it's the way we met, when you didn't know, for the longest time."

She shivered. It hadn't been that long. Two months, maybe, of guessing, hints and gentle suggestions. She had hoped, long before he'd confirmed it, but she hadn't imagined herself like this.

"Maybe I didn't want to scare you away." He rearranged his arms again, letting go of her forehead as he pulled up her shirt, slipping his other arm against her bare skin as he pulled it away, yanking it roughly over her head as the stretchy fabric got caught between them. He tossed it into the corner of the room as he hitched his leg up higher over her, letting his jeans catch on the edge of her pants, pushing the hem down, leaving the soft curve of her hip uncovered.

"The thing is, you haven't ever had to realize that I don't have to do a thing you ask me, right now." He pushed her braid out of his way with his face, dragged his teeth wetly across the back of her neck.

She squirmed at that, then harder, trying to plant her feet against the front of his legs as he sloppily kissed the back of her neck, possessive. Disgust at how uncouth it was that he was covering her with his saliva warred with sudden hot arousal as he dragged his stubble over her wet skin.

"Well, whatever this is, it's not doing a thing for me,” she said, proud of how steady her voice was. 

He turned his arm over, caressing the underside of her breasts, and slid his left hand flat against her ribcage, all but holding her heart.

"Really?"

She could feel her heart beating against his hand, giving her away. She took a deep breath, only to shake, throwing herself back against his chest as he grasped the hem of her pants and started pushing them down over her hips, curling around her tighter as she kicked. The heel of his hand against her ribs started to smart as he grabbed at the other side of her trousers, pushing on them until they were caught around her knees. She twisted against him until he slid his arms back around her waist. Even as she stayed trapped his movements were so slow, almost languid, that the move didn't feel like a victory.

"I mean, I'm not going under. Not like this."

"Huh." He seemed thoughtful as he bent one knee up, sliding hard against the back of her thigh. He angled his leg harder, making her knees fall open, and managed to get his foot pressed down over the stretched fabric of her pants, but not before he pressed his thigh against her, hard, slick folds separating as he ground back and forth. There was nowhere to go, no way to even squirm away from him and she felt her face heat up at the thought that she was going to leave a wet mark against the denim.

He leaned back, stretching her spine, and planted his foot against the stretched fabric between her knees.

"It's not always about that," he said as he pushed hard, sliding the trousers to her ankles. She kicked for a moment, not sure if she was trying to help him or not.

He held his legs out, steady, while she rested her heels against his shins. He had kicked her trousers over the edge of the bed, and she had a sudden realization that she was entirely naked while he was still wearing all his clothes, only his feet bare. She had no sooner realized that than he had shifted his grip, one arm wrapped around her waist as he leaned forward, grabbing her furthest foot and crossing it over her other leg, pulling her into his lap as he sat back, her knees bent up to her chest. He used his legs to push himself until he was sitting against the headboard, roughly turning her until she was held against him, one shoulder and one ankle in his hands.

It was the loosest he'd held her so far, but she didn't feel like arching out of his crossed legs, fully aware that he would still have her by at least two points.

"What's it about, then?" she asked, leaning her head on his shoulder and looking up at him.

"It's about me doing what I want. Whatever I want." He pushed up on her ankles, bending her in half harder, thighs burning as she tried not to let her knees fall apart. "For as long as I want." He worked his elbow between her calves, pushed just hard enough to make her legs part, the cool air when it hit her making her stomach clench up, hot and shaky.

"Until I stop you," she said, knowing very well that she didn't need to remind him, but unable not to say it.

"Until then." He looked thoughtful as he rocked himself back and forth, nudging her as he did so she was lying across his legs, still looking up at him. He twisted his hand and ran his thumbnail up the bottom of her foot, watching her calmly as she tried to reflexively pull her leg out of his grasp. "It's not really the done thing to remind me of that, though. I already know it. Just like I'm not going to remind you that you're not stopping me." He pressed his thumb into her foot again but didn't scrape it this time. "You're not, though, are you?"

"Speaking of things that are not done, I don't believe you're supposed to be mocking me for not safewording you."

He cocked his head to one side as he pulled on her ankles, straightening her legs. The fact that he could use one arm to move the strongest part of her washed over her, even as she didn't fight it, laid out straight over his legs, back arched back now.

"I'm not though." He let go of her ankles and pushed her so she was diagonally across the bed, rolled onto her before she could get her bearings, though he held his weight off her on his elbows. "Stop intimating that I'm doing things that I'm not."

"I thought we were both supposed to enjoy this."

He slid his hand up her side so hard it almost burned as he bumped over her ribs, scraped his fingernails against the side of her breast before grasping her nipple between his thumb and first finger, pinching until she gasped, then tugging it away from her body, holding her stretched and taut. He shifted his weight so he was pushing down on her abdomen, just over the ball of heat that grew when he did that, as if he could see the warm path that started at his fingers.

"I think you are. If you're not, you're enjoying it more than you'd enjoy stopping, and that's something. Besides, you're submissive. If you weren't, you wouldn't be doing this at all." He pulled harder, her flesh turning white under his fingers, then let go, heat blooming suddenly as the blood rushed back to her skin.

She let her eyes focus on the ceiling, vision blurring as she tried to remember why she was doing this in the first place.

"You wanted to be backed into a corner, remember?" Tom's voice was soft but steady at her ear, and she did remember. "Why would you have asked for that?"

She closed her eyes as she thought, the space inside her head soothingly quiet, not like the outside where Tom was a maelstrom of noise and color, and pressure, everything swirling together and confusing. She had wanted to feel small, the fact that he could overpower her somehow reassuring instead of frightening. Backed into a corner there was no need for her to think ahead or plan, nothing to do but react. He had thrown her off when he'd surprised her outside the washroom, and the fear had briefly eclipsed the excitement, but no longer.

"Shannon." He pinched her hard, letting her skin slip through his fingers, so tight she imagined herself bleeding. "Answer me. Why would you want that?"

She opened her eyes, her eyelids feeling suddenly heavy. "I like knowing you're stronger than me." It wasn't what she'd meant to say, but when she tried to remember what was there was only a blank space.

He grinned at her. "You already know that." He clamped his knees to either side of her hips, denim pushing into her skin as he knelt up, pulling his shirt off. "You just like feeling it, don't you?" He reached down and pushed her hair out of her face, reached back and pulled the elastic off the end of her braid. 

"Yes."

“Color?”

“Green.” It was easy to say, and that was a relief in itself. 

He shifted his weight to one side, then knelt beside her. The lack of his weight over her was disorienting for a moment, and then the impulse to get away kicked in and she rolled away from him, scrambling across the covers. He caught her with his leg thrown over her hip, arms around her shoulders and her waist, fingers digging into her skin as he held her tight, chest warm against her back.

"What are you doing?"

A cold shiver went through her. He sounded truly annoyed.

"You said you were going to do whatever you wanted. I said I wanted to push back on you. I don’t recall you saying no to that.”

“Hmm.” He pressed his leg against hers, and she pushed back almost automatically. “There’s pushing against me when I’m holding you, and then there’s running off like a brat the moment I’ve let go.”

Her entire body stiffened, jerking in his arms as she strained to turn her head, glaring at him. 

“Oh, you didn’t like that, did you?” He loosened his grip just enough to turn her so they were face to face.

“No I did not like being called a brat.” Her face heated unpleasantly but she refused to look away. 

“Then stop acting like one.” He gently undid her braid, running his fingers through her hair, the gentle touch confusing. "Or else, this scene will be over. Do you want that?"

She shook her head, the thought of it making her feel like she was hanging in limbo, disconnected from everything. 

His hand in the middle of her back, pushing firm against her spine, brought her back as he moved away, leaving her lying on her side. She could hear him breathing as he watched her. There was an itch in her arms, wanting to grab the side of the mattress and pull herself forward, bolt off the edge of the bed to see if he'd follow her and drag her back, but he had sounded sincere.

"Good girl." He caressed the curve of her ass, usually a prelude to a slap, but he just left his hand resting there. When he took his hand away she braced herself, but he grabbed her wrists, pulling steadily until her arms were stretched behind her back, flipping her on to her face. He crossed her wrists and held them in one hand as he wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her to the middle of the bed. She lifted her head just enough to see him set a pillow up against the headboard, a good foot away from where she was resting.

"Just in case," he said, sounding amused when he saw her looking. He nudged her knees apart with his, and settled between them, her wrists still held steady in his hand. Her neck hurt and she turned her head to one side and closed her eyes, her hair a mess all over her face. Tom brushed her hair back, her elbows bending when he leaned forward, straightening again as he sat up.

Her arms started to burn, held back, and she realized she could stop holding them up herself, letting the weight settle into Tom's hand.

She could hear the soft pop of him undoing his button, the grind of the zipper and whisper of cloth against his skin as he pushed his jeans down.

"You're so sweet," he said. "I forget sometimes that you haven't been doing this all that long. That would explain why you think that you can only be submissive when you've wrapped yourself up like a present for me."

"I never said that." She would have glared at him, but it felt like too much energy to open her eyes.

"You didn't say it, but isn't this the first time you've been in this position without actually asking to be?"

She turned her head so her chin was touching her shoulder, straining with her weight on the side of her head, just bearable, to look up at him. "Maybe after this, you could back me into a corner."

"Yeah alright. It still didn't turn out quite how you'd asked, though, did it." He pushed his jeans a little further down his hips, folding the sides of the fly back so his cock was entirely unencumbered.

She whimpered, barely even recognizing herself in the noise when she saw it, face turning back to the bed. She breathed in the little pocket made in the sheets by her face as she felt the wetness practically flowing out her, wondering how he wasn't seeing it, wasn't saying anything as her cleft got so soaked and slick that she was parting in front of him, all without being touched.

He pushed her hands down to her lower back, took a wrist in each hand. She jumped when the corner of his jeans brushed against her arse, twisting towards him, then away, maddened by her own inability to tell what she wanted in each moment, brain clouded by the burning in her arms.

The burning let up as he took a wrist in each hand, mercifully bent her elbows one at a time and turned her hands palm outward, across the curve of her back.

"Like this," he said, pressing one hand at a time into the opposite forearm. "Hold on tight." She wrapped her fingers tight against her own arms, fingernails digging in as he tested her, pulling back. "Good girl."

She relaxed into the bed even as he was moving all around her, leaning forward, scooping a pillow under the side of her head, leaving a little more room for her to breathe. She tried to look up at him but he'd moved again, kneeling up behind her, hands holding her hips. 

"Up," he said, pushing his knee against the back of her thigh. She struggled to move, her weight on her shoulders, uneven. 

"You are gorgeous," he said, so quietly she remotely wondered if she'd even really heard him, the sound of her own breath and sound of their bodies against the sheets drowning everything else out. Then everything was drowned out by the feeling of his cock drawing a thick line up the center of her, cool and slick then firm and hot as he pushed harder, graceless and imprecise until he pushed forward, sudden and broad, taking up all the space in her, no pain but still a shock, eyes flying open as all her breath came out in one startled sound. For a moment she wanted to throw her arms out, catch herself as he kept pushing forward, but she was held fast by something. There was a moment of dizzying vertigo when she tried to figure out what it was that was holding her, then Tom's hands were on her arms, tugging back as he pulled out of her and everything made sense again.

She let her face fall into the sheets as he thrust into her, hands holding her hips tight as he moved and yet her body kept moving forward. She turned her face to try to breathe, then felt the relief at hiding her face in the bed, everything blocked out but the firm strong sense of him inside her.

He made her feel lit up, bright, glowing, everything pulsating and moving towards her center and out at the same time. He hitched her hips up and pushed in and her head flew up, looking into the darkness between herself and the headboard as she yelped, suddenly hurt.

"Hold on," Tom's voice firm at her back, hands lifting her hips to a different angle as his hand smoothed along her abdomen, soothing the hurt that was too deep for him to touch. "Ok?"

"I'm ok." She wanted to plant her hands on the bed, push up, give her chest room to expand, but her forearms were still held tight, twitching against her hands. There was something wrong about that, something that she should have been able to figure out, but she forgot it as he pushed into her again, faster and harder than before, the side of her face hot against the sheet as she moved.

She lifted her face, neck straining as her hair fell across her eyes. Tom wrapped his forearm under her hips, holding her close, rubbing the head of his cock over the brightest hottest place inside her, liquid seeming to flow from there, lighting her up as the pressure seemed to rise through her all the way to her throat.

She couldn't twist towards him, couldn't push on him to slow him down, couldn't do anything as she came, twitching and clenching around him. He kept moving, as if he was totally unaware of the fact that she was overcome. She waited a breath for him to stop, to slow down, but was relieved when he didn’t. It wasn't hurting her; it was just too much, an ocean of too much, closing over her head. She could hear herself screaming, muffled by the bed when her head dropped down and by the ocean that closed over her head, soft and dark instead of scary, still there when she realized he was finally going slower.

She twisted her head back to look at him but he seemed a hundred miles away, still thrusting, slowly, though, deferential to how tender she was inside. She managed to make her mouth form a shape.

"Tom," but she couldn't remember what it was she needed to tell him. She could feel the twitching that always followed such a deep orgasm, knew he had to feel it too, rippling along his length. He rocked his hips from side to side, testing her, and she closed her eyes, almost purring at the sensation of him stretching her in a different way.

"Color?” he asked softly.

She breathed deep, thinking. Yellow would slow everything down, bring him to her side, and he’d wrap his arms around her and they’d talk for a bit. That would be nice, but she didn’t need a break, not really. She was curious about what would come next if she didn’t slow them down, and sure she was alright leaving him in charge, for now. 

“Green.” She nodded as she spoke, feeling her hair tangle even more as she moved against the sheets. She was alright. 

His hands on her arms felt like heaven, loosening her hands from where they were held by... by what, she twisted back to look but he had already undone them, holding her hands in his for a moment before he set them on the sheets, cool against her palms. 

"Keep your hands right there," he said, pushing in hard, bottoming out, the stretch a high sharp feeling that turned warm as he held himself there.

"Yes."

His hands wrapped around her wrists, familiar and comforting, pushing her hands down into the mattress even as she was trying to lift her face. She gave up, let her face rest on a cool spot on the sheets, snuggling her shoulders back at him as he settled his weight evenly over her back.

She rocked her hips back into him as he moved, barely even fucking her now, almost lazy in his familiarity. She sighed as he let go of one of her hands, sliding his hand under her hip, working two of his fingers flat against the front of her pussy, pushing in until he was bracketing her clit, stretching the skin around it without touching, just tightening everything up. She ground her hips down, barely grazing herself against the sheets, pulled up quick by his hand as he turned his fingers, giving her the pressure she'd been craving. He rubbed her in time to his thrusts, easy and sweet this time. She could feel the sweat building up on her face where she was pushed into the bed, breath warm against her face.

She opened her mouth wide, trying to keep her breathing steady, then gave up, letting it catch in her throat, its own kind of pleasure. Tom growled softly at the back of her neck, teeth against her skin as he nuzzled her, all too pleased by the sound of her losing control again. She shuddered against him, humping against his hand, the sensation rushing up and down her torso but not ripping the voice from her throat this time.

He took his hand away slowly, pressing down on her clit as she breathed through the last pulses. Distantly she wondered how he had held on, not coming as she'd clenched around him.

He slid his hand up her abdomen, pushing over her navel as he worked his way up to her chest, hand settled between her breasts when he started pushing up.

"Get on your knees," he said. She turned her head to look at him, blurry in the dim room, masked by the strands of hair over her eyes. He sounded like he was talking to her from under water, and she wondered how he expected her to get on her knees when she couldn't use her hands. "Come on, up." He patted her hand and she realized that she could push down.

He held her around her waist as she struggled to sit up, back arched, ass against his thighs. He walked on his knees, shuffling them forward to the headboard, coaxing her with soft words at her ears.

"Reach out."

She put her hands in front of her, fingers held up, as if she was playing blind man’s bluff. Tom was so solid inside her, a fulcrum that she was resting on, impossibly firm, almost sharp but not dangerous, but she moved carefully, hardly believing that with all that movement she was still keeping a place for him.

"Hold on." He took her hands one at a time and wrapped them around the top of the headboard, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of her hands. "Ok, sweetheart." He held his hands around her hips and nudged them back until her arms were stretched out, holding on. 

He pushed straight up into her, hit something new, deeper and hotter, too fast, overwhelming. She shouted, trying to let him know, it was too much, but he couldn't understand her without words, hands all over her, first on her stomach, pushing down, spreading the hot pulse out, brushing against her clit, high sharp note above everything else, the feeling coming out of her mouth as a short scream, then on her breasts, mauling her, pulling her back as he pushed them flat against her ribs. She threw her head back, hit his shoulder, and there was a hand on her forehead, holding her there as he kissed her neck. Then it was his mouth holding her neck there, hands sweeping over her torso, digging into her thighs.

She held herself steady with her hands on the headboard, at first, then started pushing back, meeting his thrusts, almost painful, but still not quite enough.

"Good girl." His voice, soft and low at her ear, managed to cut through the underwater sounds, and she turned her face towards his, mouth searching. He held the back of her head as he kissed her, his wet mouth a relief against her dry lips.

He left her leaning on his shoulder, panting as he slid his hands down to her pussy, holding her open, fingers pushing down on soft slick flesh until her clit was standing out, straining for something. She twisted her hips, knowing it was useless, searching for something to rub against, throat hot and dry with panting. Just as her pants had turned to whimpering he took pity on her, touched his finger to the exposed smooth tip of her, too much and not enough until he did it again, relief when he took his hand away and then immediate overwhelming need cycling faster and tighter until she was coming, again, curling forward but stopped from protecting herself by her hands on the top of the headboard. He kept his fingers there, crushing her as she shook against him, every muscle in her body firing, even her lips trembling as she realized she was crying.

Her throat felt tired as she leaned back against him, her face wet and itching. She wanted to wipe the tears off her face, wanted to swipe at her nose, but her hands were stuck to the headboard. Tom was holding her so tight that she could feel her heart beating against the flat of his arm held against her chest. He was talking to her, but his voice was too far away to hear until he made his words shorter, simpler.

"Up." He pushed against the underside of her wrist and she uncurled her fingers from the headboard, then did the same on the other side. He slid out of her, then lowered her carefully to her side, rolling her over as he sat cross-legged next to her, head propped up on his arm.

"Oh, look at you." He sounded unbearably fond, and it made her feel warm, replacing the overly hot feeling that had come over her before. He smoothed his thumb under her eyes, then under her nose, wiping his hand on the side of his leg. She furrowed her eyebrows at him, sure that was wrong somehow, but he just shrugged at her.

He grabbed the pillows and set them together, moved her so her head and shoulders were propped up. She quailed as she realized he was still hard.

"I can't," she managed. There was another set of words just on the tip of her tongue, but she felt like she was saving them, like letting her hand hover over an object she wasn't quite ready to pick up yet.

"I know." He knelt up and worked off the stretchy ring that had been around the base of his cock, answering the question of how he could possibly still be hard.

She watched him peel off the condom and work his hand over his cock, her hands at her sides. If he wanted something, he would tell her. For the moment she just watched, and when she looked up at his face his look of warm approval made her relax even further into the pillows, feeling like a blanket had been set over her.

"Push your tits together," he said. 

She brought her hands up to her chest, doing as he asked, cupping her breasts and pushing them together. It felt pleasant, putting herself on display for him as he knelt closer. She tried to keep watching him but her eyes were heavy, each blink lasting longer than the last.

"Keep your eyes closed," Tom said. It was easy to comply, drowsy and comfortable even as his breathing became more labored, deeper and harsh on the exhale. She jumped when the first stripe of his come hit her forehead, started giggling when it happened again, running down the curve of her cheek. Tom reached out and rubbed hard against the corner of her eye, brushing the come away from her eyelids.

"You can open your eyes now." He took her hands in his, gently setting them at her sides.

She looked up at him, trying to figure out how she looked through his eyes. He was looking at her like he'd never seen her before, like she was someone entirely new. She brought her hand to her forehead, pushing her sweat damp hair back, felt the itch of tears and snot on her face as well as his rapidly cooling come.

"I must look," she started, her voice rough.

"Amazing." He interrupted her. "You look amazing."

She shook her head, smiling, though she could hear his sincerity. "I look wrecked," she said, still surprised by how rough her voice was.

"Like I said, you look amazing." He lifted a lock of hair off her forehead and pushed it back. "Do you want a flannel?"

"Yes." She wrinkled her face, feeling the stiffness. "Soon." She looked at him from under her eyelashes, wondering if it was time for her to be demanding things from him yet.

He sat on the edge of the bed and looked back at her. "I wish I could show you."

"I doubt I'd see myself the same way that you see me," she said. She could imagine the appeal, but she shrank from the idea of actually seeing herself in the moment.

"Just trust me, then." He leaned back and kissed her forehead before he stood and hurried to the washroom. He left the door open and turned the light on when he went in, and she was grateful for that, surprised by how much she wanted him to come back, immediately.

When he came back he had a little paper cup of water as well as the flannel. "I'll bring you a drink from the kitchen in a moment," he said as she took it. It was cold and tasted of the pipes but it was wet and washed away the taste of tears in the back of her throat. She frowned as she handed it back.

"What's wrong?" He held up the flannel and she took it from him, laying it over her hands and pressing her face into it. She stayed hidden like that for a moment, thinking, then roughly wiped her face, folded it and wiped again. She could still smell him in her hair, salty and sharp, something like chlorine, and ran the flannel over that bit of her hair the best that she could.

"I was crying," she said slowly, trying to decide what it was she was trying to get at.

"You were." He took the flannel from her.

"You noticed?" She ran her hand over her face, over smooth cool skin, no trace of anything else.

"I did. You seemed overwhelmed, but alright." He wrapped his hand around her ankle, rubbing her gently. "Was I wrong?"

She shook her head. "That sounds about right."

He ran his hand up and down her shin. "Do you want a drink first, or a cuddle first?"

Her arms felt tingly and heavy, like she wanted to reach for something but didn't know what, and even though she wasn't holding on to the headboard or herself anymore she couldn't quite move them. "I don't know."

"Of course." He shook his head and for a moment she thought that she had done something wrong, until he wrapped her up in his arms, lying back as he pulled her on to his chest. "I shouldn't be asking you anything right now." He rubbed his hands down her arms, chasing away some of that heavy feeling.

"Mmm, you shouldn't," she said, speaking to his collar bone. "I feel drunk." It had hit her all at once, a heavy thick feeling inside her head, slowness to her thoughts that hadn't been there even moments before.

"That's ok." 

She looked up at him, her head flopping back, caught by his hand. "I'm ok?"

"Yeah, I promise."

She nodded and let her head fall against his chest. "My head is really heavy."

"Don't fall asleep. You need to drink something."

She whined against his chest, but knew that he'd tolerate it, even coddle her at this point.

He pulled the sheet up around her shoulders and rubbed her back through it, the friction warming her.

"Come on." He sat her up and wrapped the sheet around her front as well, fishing her hands out through the folds in the fabric. He propped her up against the headboard, pillow behind her shoulders, then stood up and walked over to the dresser. 

She watched as he pulled on his track pants, rolling the waist as he turned back to her.

"Come out to the sofa." He stood in front of her as she sat on the edge of the bed. She swayed when she stood up and he steadied her with his hands on her hips. "You're good." He gathered up the sheet and walked with her to the living room.

She covered her eyes with her hand as she sat down, leaning on the back of the couch, and he turned the lights off in the living room, leaving the room lit by the light from the kitchen as he plugged in the kettle.

She looked up as he set down a mug and a glass of water. She reached for the glass, looking curiously at the steam rising from the mug. 

"Did I fall asleep?"

"I don't think so." He sat down in front of her, tucking the sheet up around her knees. "Did you lose some time?"

She nodded and drank, feeling more awake as the cool water hit her mouth. "Were you talking to me?"

"No, you weren't that out of it."

She finished the water and set the cup down clumsily, not taking her hand away until he'd steadied it for her. 

She looked at the tea, but Tom shook his head. "That is way too hot for you right now." He eased her up off the sofa and led her into the washroom, taking the sheet off of her and tossing it into the laundry hamper after he started the shower. She held on to his arm as she climbed under the lukewarm spray, tugging on him until he kicked off his trousers and got in behind her, letting him turn her back and forth under the water as he washed her. She grumbled only a little as he worked the tangles out of her hair, realizing how much worse it would have been had he let them get wet and then dry overnight. 

He wrapped her up in a towel and sat her down in the armchair while he changed the sheets on the bed, then brought her the pajamas she'd dressed herself in what seemed hours ago now. 

"Do you want your tea?" he asked as he pulled her hair back into a loose braid. 

"Yes." She licked her lips. "My mouth still feels really dry."

It was only barely warm when he brought it to her, easy to drink nearly all at once. She handed the mug back to him, then followed him back to their bed, sighing happily as she sank down on to the fresh crisp sheets. When he laid himself down next to her she wrapped her fingers into his waistband, holding on as she fell asleep.

When she woke the room was still bright with the light from the washroom and the hallway, and her hand was stiff from being in the same position, wrapped around his trousers. Tom was asleep, and she sat up slowly, blinking as she tried to figure out what time it was. There was no light around the edges of the curtains, so it wasn't yet morning. She moved to the edge of the bed, suddenly aware of her full bladder. She scurried into the washroom, grateful to note that her arms, legs, and brain all seemed to be working together again.

After she'd gone around the house shutting lights off she got back into the bed, Tom turning towards her as she did.

"You alright?" He pulled her against his chest, rubbing a slow path up and down her back.

"I'm good." She curled up, one leg stuck between his, and fell asleep again before she could even wonder how long they'd manage to stay like that.

When she woke she was flat on her back, arms over her head, Tom in a similar position beside her. She turned her head to look and found him already awake.

"What time is it?" she asked.

Tom stretched and rolled towards her so he was facing her. "About six. I don't have to get up for about an hour."

"Did you want to go back to sleep?" She knew he had a long day ahead.

"No. I'm not going to get a chance to talk to you until much later, maybe tomorrow. Thought we should talk now."

"Ok." She turned towards him, thought about tucking herself against his chest, under his chin, hidden, but reached out to hold on to his hand instead. "I'm ok, you know."

"I know you are. Last night was something new for you, though. I thought you might want to talk about it."

She nodded, gathering her thoughts. "Other times, when we've planned a scene, or when I've offered to submit to you, or, I guess I should say, when I've asked you to dominate me, did those not really count?"

"Of course they counted. Every time has been something special.”

She felt her face heating up but forced herself not to look away from him. "But different from last night?"

"Because so far, I'd only ever dominated you within the guidelines you'd set up. This time I pushed on that and did what I wanted, and you took to it beautifully."

"I did start crying," she said. "How did you know I was ok?"

"You looked like you were ok." He smiled at her incredulous look. "Really. You looked surprised at yourself, and you were coming at the time. I've seen you tear up before. If you'd actually started sobbing I would have stopped." He looked down as he toyed with her hand. "Did I get that wrong?"

"No, you got it right." She hitched herself closer and turned so he was spooning her, tucked under his chin. "So, we're going to do this again?"

"I hope so." 

"What if I don't want to?" She found herself pushing at him, similar to when she’d been trying to escape, just to see exactly what his answer would be.

He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently from side to side. "Depends on how earnestly you don't want to."

"Like, I've had a long day, and I come home and you're all keen. And I tell you, seriously, that I'm not in the mood."

“I would never press you for sex.” He held still for so long that she felt compelled to move so she could look at him.

“Alright, good. I’ve always taken that as a given.”

“It is. But there’s a lot we could do in terms of me dominating you that has nothing to do with sex.”

“Oh, right.” She remembered the first time she’d submitted to him and had a sudden bone deep desire to do it again.

“I don’t even necessarily have to touch you, if you don’t want. But if you’re in a certain kind of mood and I think it might be just the thing you need, I might press you, a little bit.”

“That would be acceptable. I’ll tell you if that changes, on the day.” She let her legs tangle with his, worked her toes under the cuff of his trousers.

“Naturally.” He grimaced slightly as her cold toes found the warm skin of his ankle, but allowed it.

“I can’t say I wouldn’t shut you down. Or if I did go along that I wouldn’t push back on you quite a lot.”

“I think I can handle it.” He shifted his feet, twisting away from her and then trapping her leg between both of his.

“You should know, I genuinely didn’t like being called a brat.”

He nodded. “Noted. I won’t do it again. Not to say I won’t tell you to knock it off when you’re being,” he paused. “Recalcitrant.”

She laughed as she eased herself back against his chest and closed her eyes, warm and comfortable. "Can't believe you came on my face."

"I wish I could have shown you."

She let herself doze as he rubbed her back, thinking about that. Her hair and face were clean, everything around her fresh and comfortable, but the memory of being sweaty and disheveled, even filthy, was strangely warming.

"You said I looked wrecked," she said.

"Yeah, and it was amazing."

"We should do that to Ben some time." The thought of his pale skin flushed and sticky, framed by dark tangles was unbearably appealing.

" _We_ should?"

"Yeah. We should." She looked up at him, waiting for his response.

"Yes." He tilted her head back and pressed a firm kiss to her forehead. "Should break him into that idea slowly, though. I'm not sure he's ready for both of us."

"You're probably right about that." She felt shaky and excited about having actually admitted the idea of wanting to be the dominant one, at least sometimes. "You don't seem that surprised."

"I'm not. I should also mention that I do call Ben a brat, fairly frequently. Does that bother you?” She could almost hear the smile in his voice.

“Not at all.” She found herself giddy with the knowledge that she didn’t have to apologize, that they were all allowed to have their own likes and dislikes without anyone keeping score. “Pretty sure I could get in on that.”

“He makes it easy.” Tom nuzzled the top of her head. “I wish I had all day to stay with you."

"I know. But it's going to have to wait." She held on to his hand, playing with his fingers. "I should get up now, while I still feel awake."

"I should too."

She took a deep breath and rolled away from him, hopping out of bed before she could second guess herself. She made the mistake of looking back at him. He was sleepy, heavy eyed with one arm still thrown out, the perfect shape for her to curl back in. 

"Come on, up," she said, walking away. 

"Twenty minutes.” He closed his eyes.

She crossed her arms as she looked at him, sorry to have to tear herself away but sure that leaving their cozy bubble would only get harder with every passing minute.


End file.
